


For The Knight So Loved The Queen

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adult loves a minor, Angst, Brienne loves Sansa, F/M, Gen, Jon Snow is a Stark, Jon and Sansa have a son, Queen Sansa, Unrequited Love, not happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had started out so innocent. It was just a simple love, a knight’s devotion to her Queen. How could Brienne not love the girl that so easily accepted her as the knight she had always dreamed of being? How could she not love the girl that so quickly defended her against the women of the court? Sansa Stark was by far the loveliest of them all, truly beautiful from the inside out. When had that love transformed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Knight So Loved The Queen

It had started out so innocent. It was just a simple love, a knight’s devotion to her Queen. How could Brienne not love the girl that so easily accepted her as the knight she had always dreamed of being? How could she not love the girl that so quickly defended her against the women of the court? Sansa Stark was by far the loveliest of them all, truly beautiful from the inside out. When had that love transformed?

The first time Brienne met the eldest Stark daughter, Sansa had been a young girl of four and ten. She’d just been married to Tyrion Lannister and despite all his kindness, it’d been clear that she was suffocating beneath the weight of so much despair. Brienne begged Jaime for weeks before he finally agreed to return the red haired beauty to her family, and together they stole into her room and ran away with her in the night.

The journey was a long one, but in that time, both she and Jaime had managed to unlock the child Sansa Stark truly was. Together they watched as she began to laugh more and smile with her eyes. The few times they stayed in taverns or inns by the roads, Sansa grew in her trust. In the beginning, when the musicians played their fiddles, it would take many tries before Sansa finally accepted Jaime’s one good hand for a dance; but as the days went on and the temperature dropped, it quickly became Sansa that reached for Jaime. Brienne’s love for the girl grew in those nights, from a simple respect to a fierce devotion. Watching her laugh and giggle as Jaime twirled her with his one good hand was an experience to magical to put into words.

Unfortunately those magical moments came to an end when they overheard that Winterfell had been overtaken by the Boltons. The knowledge had nearly destroyed Sansa. Brienne had held the young girl long into the night as Sansa sobbed for the life lost. For Brienne, seeing her sweet charge in such despair broke her heart, as if somehow it was she that caused it.

Disheartened as they were, it was Jaime that refused to give up. After whispering many kind words, he managed to get Sansa to speak of an Uncle she did not know well. With Riverrun in Lannister hands, Jaime pressed until she remembered her Aunt at the Vale. Believing that if Edmure had gone anywhere to hide it would be the Vale, they set out to find it in hopes of reuniting Sansa with her Uncle Edmure and Aunt Lysa, the only family they knew for certain was still alive. With a smile, Sansa had agreed and they started their travels, but they had not gone far before they were overrun by a band of Northmen carrying a sigil neither Jaime nor Brienne recognized, but Sansa clearly did. When a large and handsome man atop a horse demanded to know what it was they sought in the North, the tip of his sword digging into Jaime’s throat, Sansa dismounted her own with a coy smile on her face.

“Lord Desmond!” she had called sternly, eyes narrowed slightly. Brienne tightened her hold on her sword, ready to protect her Lady, but something in Sansa’s eye kept her still. Instead she watched with careful eyes as the large man dismounted his horse and walked towards Sansa. It took a moment of eyeing Sansa’s short red hair and beautiful blue eyes before his own grew in realization.

“Sansa Stark,” he suddenly said in awe, quickly falling to his knee before her. Following their Lord’s lead, the party of three hundred followed suit. It was the first time Brienne realized Sansa Stark was not a little girl.

With all the command of a Queen, Sansa ordered the second son of Lord Umber to send a raven to every house of the North and to alert them that not only did the last remaining Stark live, but to raise the banners and prepare to march on Winterfell.

“Queen of the North!” someone yelled. There was a moment of silence before another echoed through the trees, and another, and another. Soon the whole of the camp was shouting and screaming.

“Queen of the North!”

“Queen of the North!”

“Queen of the North!”

Brienne watched in awe as the men chanted her Lady’s new title and waved their swords towards the sky in testimony. With a hearty laugh, the large man gently lifted Sansa into the air, placing her on his own large black stallion. It wasn’t long after that Sansa Stark of House Stark and Tully was officially crowned Queen of the North.

As the years passed, Brienne had the privilege of standing beside her charge, having sworn loyalty to her a few days after the declaration. Each day that passed she watched in awe as the young girl she stole from the capital commanded the respect of the Northmen. When a few years after the coronation, Sansa asked her to be the commander of her Queensguard, Brienne thought she would never be so happy again.

It was Sansa’s eight and ten nameday when Brienne first suspected that the love she’d developed for her Queen was not how it should be. Sansa had just dressed for her feast and was admiring her new gown in the mirror when Brienne realized she was getting lost in the very image of her. Sansa was as stunning as ever with her red-gold hair knotted and twisted to properly fit the bronze and iron sword crown that had once belonged to her brother. She was twirling before the mirror so she could admire the gown her brother Jon had ordered the seamstress to make for her. The very sight of Sansa so beautiful and truly happy made Brienne’s mouth go dry.

“Thank you for accompanying me tonight,” her lovely Queen said with the most beautiful smile.

“Of course Your Grace,” Brienne had stuttered, opening the door for the beauty.

“Brienne,” Sansa had said, looking up at her with those pretty blue eyes that made the world bend to her will.

“Yes my Queen?” Brienne asked, stiffening when Sansa’s delicate hand looped through her arm like a princess did with her knight.

“After Kings Landing I believed knights not real, mere stories made to fool girls into believing lies. You showed me different and for that I cannot thank you enough-” Sansa was cut off when Jon appeared in the corridor with a large smile on his face. The mere sight of him made Brienne’s blood boil. She wanted to know what her Queen had been about to say and she likely would never know.

“Sansa,” Jon greeted warmly, stopping a few paces away to admire the gown. “You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you Jon,” Sansa sang as she glided across the floor to him, her smile widening as he took her arm.

Brienne couldn’t help the twist of jealousy in her stomach at the sight of them. They were such a glorious pair, the very ghosts of Sansa’s mother and their shared father. They were the last children of Winterfell. It was why Sansa’s first acts as Queen, after reclaiming Winterfell, was to absolve Jon of his duty to the Night’s Watch and legitimize him as a true Stark of Winterfell. While the people had loved her for it, they simultaneously cried out for their Queen to marry and have an heir so that they would never need to worry about another assassination. Soon after, it was decided in true Targaryen fashion, that the two would wed in order to keep their house name. While the blessed event had not happened yet, the word of wife attached to Sansa left a bitter taste in Brienne’s mouth.

All through the feast, Brienne was forced to watch as Lord after Lord pulled Sansa to her feet in the hopes of a dance. Sansa laughed and accepted every offer, yet somehow, every time, she ended each dance in the arms of Jon. People stepped back to watch them, their Queen and future king. While Jon fumbled with his steps, Sansa was graceful enough for the two of them and they glided about the dance floor easy enough. When it came time for the actual feast, Sansa and Jon were both flushed with life and mirth, laughing in each other’s arms like young children. Brienne rarely touched a cup the nights of feasts, but that night it became more than necessary.

Soon after the dinner, Sansa was still exhausted from dancing and more drunk off Dornish wine than any would care to admit. In a hushed voice, Jaime asked Brienne to carry their little Queen to bed as she was nearly asleep on her throne. Nodding to her friend, Brienne approached her Queen and oh so carefully lifted her from her throne. The feel of having Sansa in her arms was more pleasant than Brienne would care to admit and she loathed to set her down once they arrived at the royal chamber. With a heavy sigh she placed her young Queen in the large bed, smiling slightly when Sansa shifted enough to get comfortable. A stray strand of hair fell into her eyes and without thinking Brienne reached to brush it aside, stopping only when her fingers lightly scraped the red head’s cheek. She stepped back in horror, running off before Sansa could wake.

Time stood still in the North. Sansa remained as sweet and beautiful as ever and life continued on as it always did, with the exception that Sansa and Jon were married with a young son. Upon the prince’s birth, Sansa had ever so kindly asked Brienne to watch over the crowned prince and Brienne had been forced to watch as Ser Jaime and one of the many sons of Greatjon Umber took over the duty of protecting the Queen.

“Eddie,” Sansa cooed one morning to her young son, “my little prince.”

Brienne stayed in the doorway for a moment, hoping to delay the inevitable. She could not stay in the Queen’s service, not with how she feels about her. Watching her day in and out be happy with someone else was tearing Brienne apart from the inside. Each kiss the Queen shared with the King, each time he swung her round the dance floor, each time they played with their son in the Godswood, it was like a hot sword was digging through Brienne’s heart.

“Brienne?” Sansa asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

Brienne bit her lip at the sight of her Queen. She looked perfectly in her element, standing over the cradle with the crown of swords placed elegantly on her head. She looked utterly regal, the perfect mixture of mother and warrior.

“Your Grace,” Brienne started, only to be interrupted.

“Sansa, Brienne, when we are alone you may call me Sansa,” the red haired beauty stated with a gentle smile, not for the first time.

“Of course,” Brienne apologized, not missing the slight frown on her Queen’s face when she still skirted passed the name.

“Did you need something?” Sansa asked, the joy gone and replaced by the aged eyes of the broken woman she hid so well. It hurt Brienne to think she had caused such pain, but if she ever were to call Sansa by her name aloud, Brienne knew she’d never be able to leave.

“Yes, I have come to ask your blessing to return to Tarth,” she quickly continued when she saw her Queen’s hurt expression, “My father is not well and I am his only living child. I should be with him.”

“Are you so unhappy here?” Sansa asked sadly, easily seeing through Brienne’s excuse.

“My Queen,” Sansa pursed her lips at the title, but said nothing, “I would leave only with your blessing.”

Sansa nodded with a somber face, turning her back to Brienne. With her head slightly turned, she addressed Brienne with a formality she had never before used, “Will you require anything for your journey?”

“No Your Grace, just a horse if it pleases you.”

“What about Jaime? Will he be accompanying you?”

“I have not spoken with Ser Jaime about this matter.”

Sansa’s long red hair whipped around as she half turned to look at Brienne. It was only then that she noticed the tears that had pooled in her Queen’s ocean blue eyes. “You have not spoken to Jaime?”

“No, I have not.”

The pair were interrupted when a knock on the door echoed throughout the room.

“Come in,” Sansa called, her voice higher than normal.

The door opened to reveal Jon, King of the North and Sansa’s handmaiden. No longer a Stark bastard, he stood in the doorway dressed in fine riding leathers and a simple bronze crown Sansa had had forged for him when they first married. With no greeting, the pair entered the room and Jon closed the door behind him. His eyes were focused on Sansa and Sansa alone, more pointedly, the tears in her eyes.

“Sansa,” he said in fear, his eyes darting between Brienne and his wife. “Are you alright?”

“Brienne wishes to leave us,” Sansa returned, her voice thick with emotion.

“I see,” he said simply, his eyes dark and perfectly schooled. After a moment he turned to Brienne, “I am going to take Eddard to play outside.”.

“Of course Your Grace,” Brienne replied nervously, wondering what the King was going to say. She had never before spent time with the King as she had her Queen. Of course she would have to accompany him as she protected the prince and the King had not dismissed her like he usually did when he played with his son.

“Mayree, would you stay with Sansa?” Jon asked the handmaiden as he went towards the cradle to lift the little prince into his arms.

The winds were cold outside, but as it was clear that the King was not bothered, Brienne said nothing. Instead she walked by him in silence, watching as he placed the brown haired boy on the cold ground. The small boy giggled as he ran off, faster than any boy of two ought to be able.

“They grow so fast,” King Jon said with an affectionate smile.

“Prince Eddard will grow strong Your Grace,” Brienne replied, not knowing what else she could say.

“‘Nough of that, Sansa is the Queen. I am merely her husband.” He grew quiet for a moment, worrying Brienne that she had somehow offended him. Finally he said, “You love my wife.”

“I am her subject. I love her majesty and will remain loyal to her,” Brienne told him, biting the inside of her cheek.

“You know that is not what I meant,” Jon countered, his face dark and sullen as they said it always was, even in his boyhood.

“Your Grace, I assure you I do not know what you-”

“Don’t deny it. I have seen the way you watch her. I know you love her. You rescued her from the darkest of places, even when they were within her own head. Sansa was ready to throw herself from the tallest tower of the Red Keep when you discovered her. She was ready to die and you gave her a will to live. By showing her kindness you unlocked the Sansa I knew from my youth. I do not fault you for loving her, so many do, but because of that love I ask you not to leave her. I know you must have felt slighted by being asked to guard our son,” he said with a soft smile, looking over to watch as his son pressed his tiny fists into the fur of one of the many direwolves the Night’s Watch had gifted them from beyond the wall, “but I assure you it was no punishment. Sansa knew you would rather die a thousand deaths than let any harm come to him. She was forced to watch as our father’s head was cut from his body. There was no one to shield her from the Lannisters. You saved her from that and she wanted that same protection for Eddard.” He stopped his walking to turn to her.

“I would gladly die for my Prince,” she recited, words she said each morning but never ceased to be true.

The King smiled, nodding his head before growing dark again, “I know I ask a lot of you in staying, but I do not think Sansa can take it if you leave. I am the family she lost, Eddard is the love she longed for, but you are the strength that was so terribly taken from her. Sansa needs you.”

And just like that, Brienne knew she could never leave. She would never leave the Queen she had fallen for, because the happiness of Sansa meant more than her own.


End file.
